


Scene to Forget, A

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Takes place during *Tunguska*.





	Scene to Forget, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

A Scene to Forget by Subsume

Disclaimer: All dialog at the very beginning of this story is Chris Carter's and Frank Spotnitz's. The X-Files characters are property of CC and 1013 and FOX Broadcasting. I make no claims to any of the characters and parts of the dialog and take no profits from it--plus I am too poor to be worth suing. Material from the "@@@" to the end was written entirely by me with the able assistance of my beta readers, Cheryl and Sue. Note: I worship the ground CC walks upon for giving us these beautiful men to play with.   
Also note that some of the story requires a certain amount of knowledge of BDSM and its motivations. If you have that knowledge, the characters will behave appropriately (I hope!!) except for the nonconsent part. If you don't have a clue about BDSM, trust me that everything does ring true, except for the nonconsent part. I didn't want to encumber this already very long story with too much exposition; however, private email with questions and comments is welcome. Flames are also relished--I'm twisted that way.

Rated: NC-17 or higher for language, violence, torture, and nonconsentual male/male sex (which arrives in part two). Warning--Rape of major character (in part two)   
Spoilers: Tunguska/Terma   
SMT Rating: 9 (no broken bones)   
Gossamer: NO   
AXFC: NO   
MKRA: Yes

* * *

A Scene to Forget  
by Subsume

The whip descended again and Fox Mulder cowered on the ground, hands thrown up in the air to defend his face and eyes, afraid to turn over to avoid the whip because he might be trampled by the agitated horse his captor rode. //What the FUCK is this?// he mentally shouted in confusion as he warded off another blow from the whip. His shocked mind mercifully shut down even before he was knocked unconscious. 

**************************************

He didn't know what woke him, but the first thing he became aware of was pain. Throbbing, intense, nauseating pain in his head. The second thing he noticed was an incredible stench. A combination of piss, shit, garbage, and the piercing scent of stale sweat and fear, with an edge of rotting flesh. He sat up painfully, squinting against the light coming from a tiny barred window high on the stone wall, making his head pound even more. After a few moments, he noticed a persistent whispering coming from somewhere. He couldn't understand a word and finally realized that the voice was speaking Russian. 

"I don't speak Russian!" he cried out petulantly, sending an intense bold of pain through his head. "Then no one has told you?" the voice continued, switching to English. Mulder carefully rose to his feet, grunting in pain, and approached a crack in one wall where the voice seemed to be issuing. He peered into the crack, seeing the other prisoner's eyes looking back at him.

"Told me what?" Mulder asked.

"That you were brought here to die. To wish you were dead," the man said matter-of-factly, speaking about something he had long ago come to accept. 

"I wasn't brought here. I came here...looking for something," Mulder replied.

"The only thing you will find here is death...and suffering."

"What is this place?" Mulder asked numbly.

"This place?" the prisoner explained. "A gulag. A place where the guilty rule the innocent."

A sudden loud noise shocked them both. Mulder turned in fear and his friend in the next cell shut up immediately. The door to his cell was flung open and Alex Krycek, missing his jacket and hat, was thrust inside and began desperately pleading with the guards in Russian. One answered him with an air of finality and shut and locked the cell door. Krycek tried to open the door and then turned his pale, sick, and frightened face to Mulder and panted "We've gotta get out of here. They're going to torture us." He crossed the cell and went to the window, trying to move the bars. Mulder followed him with his eyes.

"How do you know?" Mulder asked warily, secretly glad to see Krycek again because his was at least a familiar, if hated, face.

"They were questioning me," Krycek replied, agitatedly pulling at the window bars. He turned away from the window and stood in front of Mulder. "Trying to get me to confess," he continued.

"To what?" Mulder asked.

"To being a spy," Krycek said.

Despite the pain in his head, Mulder charged Krycek and slammed him up against the wall, tearing a grunt from him. He ground his forearm across Krycek's throat. "What did you tell them," Mulder demanded furiously, mouth drawn tight in anger, positive that Krycek had betrayed him, accused him, thrown him to the wolves.

"That we were stupid Americans, lost in the woods." Krycek gasped, forcing the words past Mulder's crushing arm. He grabbed at Mulder's arm trying to tear it away from his throat but it was like iron. The rocks of the cell wall scraped painfully against his back through his thin T-Shirt as the full length of Mulder's body pressed him fiercely into it.

 //Oh, how I hate you// Mulder thought, staring into Krycek's dark green eyes.

"Mulder," Krycek said slyly. "You're going to need me in here." Krycek watched the shifting emotions in Mulder's eyes and he could feel Mulder's body relaxing just a bit as he processed what Krycek said. Krycek pushed sharply at Mulder in response to his easing off and Mulder continued to back away, his body language showing he knew that Krycek was right.

"Don't touch me again" Krycek said menacingly and stepped away from the wall, raising his head slightly in triumph as Mulder stared at him angrily and then turned away. Krycek felt smug about his new power. He relished this reversal of fortune. The constant physical abuse Mulder heaped on him was wearing rather thin. Now, Mulder could only know what Krycek told him, and Krycek hadn't told him much of anything truthful, nor would he. Krycek hadn't worked for the black-lunged bastard all this time, not to mention his other masters, without learning a few manipulative tricks.

Time passed as the two men sat against opposite walls of the cell. Mulder had no idea how much time, but he noticed that the quality of the light coming from the window changed and the cell became even colder. He was glad that the man in the next cell had kept quiet all this time. Mulder had a feeling that the fact that Krycek didn't know about the English-speaking prisoner was going to be of prime importance to his survival.

********************************************

More noises in the hall put both of them on alert. Mulder waited tensely for the door to be opened again, but instead the food flap at the bottom of the door flipped open and two tin cans of some kind of liquid were pushed into the cell. Krycek grabbed for one and handed the other to Mulder. Mulder took the can eagerly, feeling the delicious warmth spread from the cup to his fingers, and gulped greedily at the broth; he was so cold and so hungry. Then he noticed movement in the liquid and spit out his mouthful, reaching into the soup to pull out a struggling cockroach. He held it in front of him, looking at it with revulsion. Krycek saw the insect and both men flung their soup cans away in disgust.

Suddenly, seemingly in response, the door to the cell was shoved open and a guard with a billy club entered, speaking to Krycek in a harsh tone, grabbing him from the floor and pressing him to the wall. Krycek, in a panic, answered back and kept on talking. Mulder rose to his feet and watched as the guard clutched at Krycek's shirt, apparently arguing with him and threatening him with the club. Krycek continued to speak rapid Russian, eventually having some effect because the guard backed off and began to speak more calmly. 

"What were you saying?" Mulder interrupted, frightened and angry to be so dependent on the man he considered nearly his worst enemy, the man who was his former partner, the man who betrayed him and Scully, the man who probably killed his father and was an accessory to the murder of Scully's sister, the man he hated with a black passion, hated... and.....?

"That I want to see his supervisor" Krycek explained.

The guard and Krycek began talking again. Mulder followed the conversation apprehensively, once again mentally cursing the fact that he had taken French in school instead of a useful language. After more talk, the guard jerked his head for Krycek to follow him.

"Da svedanya," Alexei Krycek said to Mulder and, with a cryptic look, left the cell. The guard slammed the door and Mulder turned away with a grimace, scared to be without the one person he knew in Russia but still relieved that Krycek was gone.

"That man is *not* your friend," whispered the prisoner from the next cell when he heard Mulder's cell door bang closed. "He speaks indifferently to the guards. Formal language, as if to an equal. You...are deceived." 

"Who are you?" Mulder asked, swallowing bile at the knowledge that his worst fears were realized.

"A prisoner, like you. But I have committed no crime." replied the man.

"Why are you here?" Mulder prompted, attempting to gather as much information as he could, losing himself in the familiar routine of questioning an informant. The man explained that the prisoners were there to work, to find the rock, to be experimented upon, to be tortured, to be exposed to the "Black Cancer," to ultimately die. The more Mulder heard, the more frightened he became. He had no idea how to get out of this situation. Scully didn't know precisely where he was, and neither did Skinner, so there wouldn't be a rescue party coming for him soon, or ever. A sick feeling began to spread in the pit of his stomach, and he was glad he hadn't been able to eat the swill they were served. He didn't think he would enjoy adding the stench of vomit to the already miasmic air of the cell.

The cell door suddenly burst open once again and three guards charged inside, grabbing Mulder and pressing him to the floor on his stomach, but not before he got a glimpse of a fourth man in glasses holding a syringe containing a pale, murky liquid--obviously intending to inject him with it! Blind panic raced through Mulder's body and he struggled against his captors, but to no effect. The three burly guards held him easily as he tried to look over his shoulder at the other man who leaned down and swiftly injected the contents of the syringe into the back of Mulder's neck.

"NOOOO!!!!!" Mulder screamed and then knew no more.

*********************************************************

@@@@

He heard gruff voices, scraping sounds, Krycek's voice speaking rapidly and pleadingly. //Oh good// Mulder thought //Whatever's happening is happening to him, too//.

He felt both pain and numbness, an odd combination. He tried to move but was unable. He carefully cracked one eyelid to get his bearings but not give his captors any indication that he had awakened. His vision was blurry, but he could tell he was lying on his back on the floor on top of his own ropebound arms, which had gone numb. Three guards were standing by a table. The man with the glasses, the one who had injected him, was sitting behind the table questioning Krycek, who was kneeling on the floor on the other side of the table, unbound, talking fast and gesturing. He occasionally pointed at Mulder and then at himself. Mulder must have made some noise of frustration at being unable to understand what was being said, because everyone in the room suddenly turned to look at him and two guards strode over and roughly hauled him to his feet. He cried out in pain from the jerking of his arms and then from his knees hitting the floor as he was shoved down again. When he dizzily raised his head, he found he was kneeling next to Krycek in front of the table, with the man in glasses looking at him appraisingly. Krycek glanced at him and swallowed hard, stuttering out more Russian while nodding at him. Then, with his head turned as far as he could get it towards Mulder, he let one eyelid drop down in a slow wink. Mulder stared stupidly at him, knowing it was a signal but not what it meant. //Probably some kind of trick// Mulder thought, his natural paranoia cutting through the drug. Krycek turned back to the man behind the table and kept up his pleading. The man stood up and motioned to a guard. The guard stepped forward and slapped Krycek as hard as he could on the cheek, sending him crashing into Mulder and knocking them both to the floor.

Mulder moaned from the pain in his tingling arms and tried to get back to his knees at least, if not his feet. But one of the guards, a huge man with spiky brown hair, leaned down and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him onto his back using his full weight, making Mulder arch and cry out in pain. The guard began to scream in his face, covering him with spittle. Another guard had Krycek on his stomach on the floor and was kneeling on his legs as hard as he could. Krycek grunted and tried to wriggle away, but the man only sat on the backs of his thighs and held his arms together at the elbows. Mulder began to try to buck off the man holding him, but it was like trying to buck off a cement truck. The third guard knelt down by Krycek's side and started to wrap his pulled-back arms in a carefully-held length of barbed wire. Krycek began babbling at top speed, practically screaming the coarse-sounding Russian words. The man with the glasses said something and the guard with the wire stopped trying to wrap it around Krycek. The man holding Mulder down abruptly flipped him over on his stomach and began taking the ropes off his arms. By the time the ropes were off, Krycek had been seated in a chair and was talking more calmly with the man in glasses, the man who had injected him and was probably the Commandant of the gulag. Mulder was picked up and a chair was dragged around for him. He sat gingerly and kept his eyes on Krycek, wondering what he could possibly have said that had resulted in this miraculous change in fortune and watching the spread of pink on Krycek's cheek from the guard's slap. Despite the fact that Mulder had been terrorized beyond any point ever in his life, even beyond the point of terror that his father had routinely subjected him to as a child, he found himself getting a trifle distracted. He couldn't seem to focus or concentrate. He couldn't understand a word that was being said; it was like a foreign movie with no subtitles. All he could tell was that apparently Krycek had said some kind of magic word and now everybody was happy. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart beat. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel the remaining effects of the drug that had been injected into him, some kind of powerful tranquilizer. It made his thinking fuzzy. He jerked awake with a start and was astonished that he had nodded off for a second. He sensed a change in the room now, a shift in mood. He was puzzled and looked at Krycek, who was smiling cryptically at him, green eyes hooded. He looked at the guards and the Commandant and saw that they were looking back at him with a certain interest that he did *not* like. He decided to risk speaking to Krycek.

"What the hell have you been telling them, Krycek?" Mulder whispered urgently, shifting his gaze from the guards to the Commandant and back to Krycek.

"That you were mine. That I fucked you regularly and you loved it rough." Krycek hissed.

"Motherfucking son of a bitch!!!" Mulder exploded and leaped out of his chair at Krycek. "Bastard!!! Goddamed fucking asshole!!!!" he screamed, and beat on Krycek as he landed on top of him on the floor. He only got in a few good punches before two guards dragged him off and held him in a choke hold.

In a blind rage, Mulder struggled against the guards and heard Krycek and the Commandant laughing as Krycek stood and made a show of dusting himself off. 

Krycek, speaking in Russian to the Commandant, stepped up to the struggling, swearing Mulder and began to stroke his face and hair. Mulder kicked out with his feet and did his best to bite Krycek's hands, while nearly strangling himself in rage against the guard's forearm.

"Now, now, *Fox*, what's all the fuss?" Krycek asked sarcastically, deliberately using Mulder's hated first name, dodging Mulder's snapping teeth and flailing feet. "You know how much you have always wanted to fuck me." He laughed delightedly at the hatred in Mulder's eyes. "That's why you're always hitting me. Even when I'm handcuffed and no threat at all, you hit me. You should know all about the psychological process that transforms attraction into aggression. I certainly do, and I don't have a PhD like you. Mulder, I have hated you and wanted you at the same time practically since I first met you. You were such a bastard to me, you know. But you are so fucking hot, too."

"Why are you doing this, Krycek?" Mulder managed to choke out. 

"Why? Because when I told them about 'me and you' they got very interested. Things are pretty boring around here. They want us to put on a show for them. They say that if we entertain them, they will let us go." Krycek said, lying to Mulder with a straight face. //Oh, no, Foxy boy, that's not the reason. The real reason is that I want to humiliate you the way you have humiliated me. I want to hurt you the way you have hurt me. I want to fuck you the way I know you want to fuck me!// Krycek's expression was one of sheer malicious triumph.

The Commandant began issuing orders and Mulder was dragged out of the room. Krycek and the Commandant followed, speaking in low tones and laughing in a very suggestive way. Mulder kicked and squirmed to get away the entire trip down the hall, but when their destination was reached and the door flung back by the third guard, he froze.

The door had opened to reveal something out of the Dark Ages, or out of someone's nightmare, or wet dream--a fully equipped torture chamber. Mulder's eyes panned the room in shock, taking in one odd device after another, taking in the chains, ropes, whips, rods, pincers, brazier, standing H-frame, steel examination table, wooden horse, and the rusty stains on the floor. Mulder's legs gave out underneath him and his mind seemed to shut off. The guards held him and kept him from falling to the floor and turned to look at the Commandant for instructions.

The Commandant deferred to Krycek and made his way to his favorite chair to view the entertainment. He would enjoy himself, and, assuming that an identity check did not confirm the black-haired man's story, he had two more prisoners to add to the experiment when the fun was over. If this "Alexei Krycek" was indeed Comrade Arntzen of the KGB, then he would get the promised promotion and a ticket out of this hellhole. //A win/win situation// he thought, and sighed happily.

Krycek rubbed his hands together and thought about what he'd like to do to Mulder first. Get him trussed and get the brazier going. He knew Mulder's terror of fire and was going to enjoy using it against him. Those few months as Mulder's partner had given him all kinds of information to use against him in this "scene." He instructed the guards to chain Mulder to the frame, with his back facing their audience. Once the stunned but feebly-resisting man had been affixed to the frame with his legs spread and his arms over his head, Krycek ordered the guards to start the brazier. After it was going, the guards joined the commandant against the wall, waiting to enjoy the show, but ready to help if needed--oh yes, ready and willing to help.

Krycek wandered around the room, picking up "utensils" here and there and began a running monologue in English to further terrorize Mulder and increase his own pleasure.

"Oh, Foxy?" He began, checking to see if his victim was aware yet. "Are you still with us?" He crossed the room and slapped Mulder hard across the face. Mulder groaned and leaned back against his bonds and shook his head, trying to focus on Krycek, his hated enemy. He struggled against the bonds, testing them, but he was stuck fast. He stared black hatred into Krycek's face and wished him dead.

"There's my boy, back in the land of the living. But I have a feeling you will be hoping for death before the night is over." Krycek chuckled and ducked the wad of spit Mulder somehow managed to collect in his dry mouth and spew at him. "Naughty boy, Foxy," Krycek smiled, translating the comment into Russian with a play on the word "Fox", and the audience laughed, too. "You're going to have to be punished. Well, even more so than I already had planned, that is."

"You cocksucking bastard," Mulder spat out. "You fucking prick. You........" Mulder's curses faded away to inarticulate growls of hatred and frustration. His fists clenched above the shackles and the long muscles in his legs spasmed trying to jerk out of the ankle chains. One muscle at the side of his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, glaring at his tormentor.

"Telling me what you want, are you? No, no, Foxy, you misunderstand. *I* tell *you* what I'm going to do, and right now I am going to get these clothes off you. I'm an artist and I want to see my canvas." Krycek stepped over to one of the tables and picked up a large, very sharp, butcher knife. He could have had the guards strip Mulder, but Krycek knew the added terror the knife would provoke in his victim. Seeing his hated enemy come at him with a sharp knife while he was helpless should ratchet up Mulder's fear level very nicely. Krycek glanced with studied nonchalance at the blade of the knife and walked back up behind Mulder. He suddenly leaned into Mulder's back and laughed as Mulder convulsed away from him.

"Better hold still, Fox, or you will get a nasty cut, and I don't think they have any Bactine around here." Krycek grabbed the back of Mulder's shirts and pulled them away from his neck, inserting the knife down the collar. He pulled the knife tightly against the fabric and the knife was so sharp it parted the cloth relatively easily. Krycek cut the clothing until it was slit all the way down the back. He then did the same to each sleeve, inserting the point of the knife at the back of Mulder's hand and drawing the knife along the back of Mulder's arm to the large slit up the back. Once both sleeves had been cut, Mulder's clothing fell away, exposing his smooth back. Krycek ran his hands up and down Mulder's back, leaning to whisper in his ear. "Now I can get at you, Foxy," he sighed his breath into Mulder's ear. Mulder shivered and tensed his entire body at Krycek's touch.

"Fine with me, Fox, stiffen up--but eventually things will change, you know. Or maybe you don't. I never *did* get a handle on just how perverted you are while we were partners. All I ever saw were your stroke books and vids. Pretty tame stuff. But maybe you never showed me the good ones? Huh, Fox? Any dark secrets? Ever walk on the wild side? Answer me!" Krycek had moved around the frame while he was talking and now stood waiting in front of Mulder, his face maybe an inch away from the other man. Mulder's beautiful lips were pressed tightly shut and he just shook his head at Krycek, refusing to speak.

"Maybe you need some incentive to cooperate with me, Fox." Krycek said and secured a short pair of pincers. He picked up a coal from the brazier and walked back in front of Mulder, relishing how new fear swept over Mulder's face at the sight. Mulder began to sweat. Krycek stepped closer to him and brought the coal toward one of his tiny crinkled nipples. A few hairs on Mulder's chest sparked up and disappeared, making Mulder gasp and leaving a smell of burnt hair.

"How perverted are you, Fox? Answer me! Have you ever had sex with a man?" Mulder shook his head once, sharply. 

"No? Not even in England?" Mulder shook his head again. 

"Not even with that ape Skinner?" Mulder jerked back and shook his head no, but still refused to speak. 

"Ever practiced BDSM with anyone?" Mulder hesitated, but then shook no. 

"Now, you hesitated that time. What did you mean by that? SPEAK!!" Krycek shouted suddenly, and pressed the coal against Mulder's chest just above his left nipple then immediately pulled it back, noting the small raising blister. Mulder shouted, more in fear than in pain and jerked back as far as he could in his bonds, gasping.

"I want you to speak, Mulder," Krycek's voice dropped to a low growl and he brought the coal up to Mulder's face, closer and closer to his cheek.

"No, no....I don't know." Mulder gasped out, stiff as a board, his eyes locked on the coal.

"Come on now! You know what I mean. Have you ever given or received pain during sex, have you tied anyone up or been tied. I KNOW you understand domination since you've been all over *me,* especially when I was handcuffed. Well?" Krycek blew on the coal, fanning the heat into Mulder's face.

Mulder blinked and swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing convulsively. "I...I...I h-have bitten people, women....and been bitten...and I have tied a person, woman....up with a rope once...and I... used my handcuffs a few times. Happy?" Mulder sucked in air and looked at Krycek's eyes, trying for some advance warning if Krycek intended to burn him again. He loathed fire, and he loathed that Krycek knew he did. His chest stung, but he knew it was a minor burn. His fear level didn't drop, however.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Krycek gloated and pulled the coal back from Mulder's face. Mulder's relief was palpable. "But you didn't mention me, unless that's what you meant by using your 'handcuffs a few times.'" Krycek glared into Mulder's face. "But if we were 'sharing a moment,' I should have at least gotten a kiss. Kiss me now to make up for it." 

Mulder's look was incredulous and his mouth dropped open slightly in shock. Krycek moved the coal close to Mulder's face again, and leaned his own face closer. "Kiss me, Mulder. I'm a very good kisser, and with that mouth, you should be, too." He placed his mouth on Mulder's softly, barely there, feeling Mulder tremble at the touch and pushed ever so slightly forward. Mulder suddenly jerked his head way back and let out an inarticulate howl of rage and pain and fear and humiliation and.....what? Mental anguish of another kind? Mulder brought his head forward onto his chest, avoiding Krycek's eyes and sucked in big shaky gasps of air while the Commandant and guards laughed slyly.

Krycek laughed, too, feeling Mulder's torment. The kiss had been very sweet and Mulder wasn't handling it very well. Krycek couldn't keep the grin off his face as he put the coal back in the brazier and put the set of pincers down. He walked over to the wall where the whips and rods were hung and debated which one to use first, letting Mulder calm down a little. //Ah, a nice soft suede cat// he thought to himself, wondering why such a light warm-up tool was here in an *actual* dungeon. He glanced at their audience and figured this room was probably used for more than mere "interrogations."

Krycek picked up the suede cat-o'nine-tails and swung it back and forth, gauging its heft and balance. He slapped it lightly against his leg and walked behind Mulder, whose head was still down on his chest. Mulder was breathing heavily and sagging a bit in his bonds and they hadn't even *started* yet. Mulder definitely needed a wake-up call. Krycek raised the flogger and started a rotating motion with his wrist that brought the tails of the cat in contact with Mulder's back lightly and smoothly and nearly continuously. He rotated his wrist and arm faster and brought more power into each stroke as Mulder's head raised up off his chest and his back arched away from the lashes. But Krycek was still only "tickling" him, teasing him, slowly raising Mulder's threshold of pain as his endorphin level rose, as his *arousal* level rose. Krycek began a cris-cross stroke with more force, bringing the blows from one shoulder to the other back and forth, one side of Mulder's back to the other, careful not to wrap around his torso, keeping the focus on his back from neck to the top of his jeans. Mulder's panting grew louder as the strokes kept coming and coming, not stopping, changing from one side to the other. He was panting now in time with each stroke, and Krycek knew it was time to switch to a heavier tool. His "playmate" was warmed up enough.

Mulder's gasps lost their rhythm when Krycek stopped the cat's motion, but he nearly dislocated his shoulders jumping away from Krycek's hands as they now smoothed over his back, feeling the heat and rubbing the already-fading red marks his flogging had caused on Mulder's back. "You did really well, Mulder. But that is just the beginning. You should be feeling kind of light headed now, kind of warm and unfocused, are you?"

Mulder nodded before he could stop himself and Krycek laughed. He ran his hand around Mulder's waist to his stomach and lightly brushed the front of his jeans, pulling away quickly before Mulder could react. There was definitely a "presence" there, and Krycek nodded to himself. Krycek went back to the wall of weapons and put the suede cat back up. He now picked a heavy, braided leather cat with knots on each tail.

"Foxy, my boy, now *this* is going to sting." Krycek said as he returned to his spot behind Mulder. Krycek was now oblivious to their audience, he didn't care if they ever confirmed his "identity." All he was thinking about right now was manipulating Mulder's emotions and physical reactions by inflicting pain on him. Krycek wanted him to cry, to sob, to beg, to sigh, and finally to submit and obey, and if necessary he would use every tool in this room and every trick he had learned over the years to make that happen. He swished the new tougher cat a few times and then began the same flogging motions as with the suede, but this time Mulder nearly leaped out of his skin. He shouted in pain and leaned as far away as possible as the stinging thuds kept coming in an inexorable rhythm that overwhelmed his senses. Mulder squirmed and writhed, jerked, tried to squat, tried to stand on his toes, shook his head over and over, but the flogging never stopped or faltered. It only increased, harder, faster, the rhythm more solid and immutable. There were sparks before Mulder's eyes, he could only hear the blood rushing back and forth in his head, he felt like he had left the floor and was floating, he didn't know he was moaning in time to the strokes, he was blind and deaf. A tingle began at the back of his skull and traveled down his spine and then into his groin, where it settled warmly. Krycek kept the movement of the cat steady, allowing Mulder to ride the sensation, not jarring him or knocking him off his inner balance. Krycek had never scened with such a quickly responsive partner, even the ones who *weren't* forced. Mulder was a natural; he was feeling everything that Krycek wanted him to feel. Krycek pushed his will out to Mulder with every stroke of the flogger. //You *will* feel this, you *will* deal with this, you *will* face this, you *will* take this// Krycek chanted in his head in time to the strokes. Krycek was beginning to pant with exertion and Mulder was rocking gently in his bonds now, not trying to get away anymore, just moving with each blow. 

Krycek slowed down gradually and finally stopped, stepping forward immediately to run his hands over Mulder's body and this time Mulder was so inwardly-directed he didn't jerk away. He was stoned on more than just the injected drug; he was also feeling the effects of endorphins, the body's own natural pain killers that had changed the pain of the flogging to a bizarre, mind-numbing pleasure. Mulder tilted his head back and sighed as Krycek rubbed and soothed his flesh; he forgot to be angry and tense. Just as Krycek had predicted.

"Mulder, you have no idea how good you are, how exciting it is to flog you." Krycek whispered into Mulder's ear, licking the rim and feeling the shivers run down the body in his arms. He put both hands on Mulder's hips and then slid them forward to cup and fondle Mulder's now hard cock and vulnerable testes through his pants, readjusting them more comfortably. Krycek could feel Mulder beginning to tense up again at these liberties, gathering the energy to protest, and quickly whispered "No, baby, don't move. Don't move. I'll tell you when I'm going to hurt you again and it's not right now." Mulder relaxed and let his next-to-worst enemy fondle and caress his genitals.

Mulder didn't know how he came to be feeling so light, so relaxed, so free. How did being chained and whipped let one's spirit loose? He had studied sadomasochism, of course, but had never experienced *this.* This was nearly a transcendent experience, like what he had read happened to religious seekers and pilgrims. He didn't know if he felt this way because he was drugged and helpless, because someone else was in control, because of Krycek's skill, because this was how being flogged always felt, or if his mind had just given up and packed it in. All he knew was that for the first time in so long, so very long, he wasn't in emotional turmoil. His mind seemed calmer, his heart either freed of it's burdens or just carrying them better. He felt a strange kind of peace, and was oddly grateful to Krycek for giving it to him.

Krycek kissed Mulder's earlobe and his neck and Mulder gave in with a slow sigh and tilted his head to allow Krycek more room. Krycek lavished kisses on both sides of Mulder's sensitive neck in reward, feeling him tremble at his touch, sucking his earlobes, licking the back of his neck. Krycek was on a Power high from Mulder's capitulation and felt invincible. Nothing was going to stop him from taking Mulder all the way. Nothing. Not even his growing feeling of tenderness toward him.

Krycek gave the back of Mulder's neck one more kiss and let go of Mulder's cock at the same time. //No more kisses for *you*// he thought. He expected a moan (of protest?) and Mulder gave him one. Krycek sighed with satisfaction and went to the wall again, looking for his next tool. He decided on a rod of flexible plastic wrapped in leather--a wicked weapon that could slice or tear flesh in the wrong hands. Krycek knew how to use it properly to the best effect and he was much better with a rod than trying to use the single tail whips the guards routinely wielded on the prisoners. He hung the cat up and took the rod back behind Mulder again.

"Mulder, remember I said I'd tell you when I was going to hurt you again?" Krycek waited to see if Mulder would reply.

"Yes," Mulder said, softly, barely audible.

"I'm going to hurt you again." Krycek stepped back and took a running step and lashed out with the rod at the middle of Mulder's back.

Mulder shrieked this time. He didn't scream, he didn't bellow, he shrieked. The pain was so intense he forgot how to breathe. He tried to inhale to shriek some more, but couldn't. Before he could get his breath back, Krycek had struck again, this time across his shoulders. Mulder felt like his head would come off. He began to cry, tears leaking down his face. The only way he could get air in his lungs was to sob it in. Krycek landed blow after blow, all between the middle of his back and his shoulders. He could feel his skin puffing up, swelling and welting in response. He couldn't control his body anymore. It was doing whatever it wanted to do, jerking back and forth, while he just tried to learn to breath again and bear the pain. He was grunt/sobbing continuously now and trying to scream with each new slash of the rod. Would Krycek ever stop? Would Krycek kill him this way? If he couldn't get air soon, he would die.

Just as he knew he couldn't bear another slash, Krycek stopped and began a new pattern of comparatively light taps. Tap, tap, tap, tap, all over his back and buttocks. Tap, tap, tap, a bit harder in counterpoint to the continuous stinging pain from the welts. Tap, tap, tap. Oh, he was going to go insane. He suddenly began gasping for air again, he could breath again. He took deep lungfulls and tried to hunch away from the pain in his own flesh, but it was a part of him now. Krycek had created it and then given it to him and it was his to deal with. Krycek stepped forward to him again and massaged his waist, deliberately not soothing the fire in his upper back. Mulder sagged into him, trying to rub his shoulders against him, to make him take some of the pain back, but Krycek moved away, refusing.

"Hold still now." Krycek said and Mulder obeyed instantly. He reached around in front of Mulder to the front of his jeans and began to undo them, expecting Mulder to panic. Mulder panicked. "Hush, hush. I'm not going to hurt you there. Yet. And I will always tell you when," he whispered soothingly into Mulder's ear. He licked up Mulder's tears where they had trickled down his face and neck.

Krycek stopped opening Mulder's fly and pondered whether to interrupt the flow of the scene to have the guards move Mulder to the wooden horse, or if he should test the limits of Mulder's new submission by moving him himself. He tasted Mulder's skin, made salty from tears and sweat, and decided to exercise his own control and keep the guards out of it. "Fox, I am going to take you down from here and move you to a new location. You will not move except as I tell you, and then you will do it instantly. Is that clear?" Krycek whispered calmly but firmly.

Mulder's chest hitched in a half sigh, half sob and he nodded, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

Krycek looked over at the Commandant and requested the keys to the frame's shackles, explaining that he wanted to move Mulder to the wooden horse. The Commandant nodded in agreement and a guard stepped forward with the keys in his hand. Krycek took the key ring and quickly waved the guard back. He didn't want the guard invading his space. 

He went back over to Mulder and while he unlocked Mulder's feet, he looked up at the long curve of his lean back, at the welts and stripes he had put on Mulder's flesh. //I made this// Krycek thought to himself with a tight jolt of pride. He unlocked the other ankle and stood in front of Mulder to unlock his stretched arms. "When I release this arm, Fox, you will immediately put it behind your back and freeze. Clear?" Krycek asked as the shackle snapped open and Mulder's left arm was free. Mulder did as he was told and bent the arm around to his back and then held his position, his head down and eyes staring glassily at the floor. Krycek unlocked the other arm and brought it down, holding Mulder's wrist and using his arm as a leash to lead him to the horse. Krycek watched every movement of the other man's body, ready to catch Mulder if he fell but also ready to beat him to the ground if he attacked. He held tightly to the sweaty wrist and towed Mulder across the room to the horse and brought him forward and down to lean his upper belly and chest against the leather-covered wood. This was not the thick, benign leather gymnastic horse or the simple, slender wooden saw horse. This horse had a much more sinister use--specifically for restraining prisoners in a bent-at-the-waist position.

"Let your arms hang down in front of the horse, Fox," Krycek ordered, and came around quickly to put Mulder's wrists into the cuffs affixed to the horse's legs midway to the floor. Once Mulder was secure in the front, bent over the frame of the horse, upper stomach on the leather and wrists caught tight in the cuffs, Krycek stepped behind him and began to unfasten Mulder's jeans again, facilitated by the sizable gap between Mulder's legs and the horse.

Mulder gave out a low moan, swallowed, then said with forced mildness, "Don't do this, Krycek."

"Oh, but I want to, Fox" Krycek replied with a smile, drawing Mulder's zipper down. "I guarantee you we will *both* enjoy this." As he said the final word, he ground his hips against Mulder's vulnerable backside, letting him feel his hard prick. 

Mulder didn't try to squirm away, knowing that his futile wriggling would only stimulate Krycek further. Mulder was coming down off his endorphin/drug high now and was feeling numb and lethargic. Even thinking was taking too much energy. It was easier to just "go away" in his own mind, hide in a dark corner of his own consciousness, than it was to try to fight and lose, as he knew he would. He sighed and tears slipped out from under his closed lids.

Krycek pulled Mulder's jeans and boxers down the narrow hips, teasing himself by revealing the rest of Mulder's body slowly. Mulder had a gorgeous ass, but then Krycek didn't really expect anything different after seeing him in his speedo at the pool when they were partners. He continued to slide the jeans and shorts down Mulder's legs and calves, bunching them up around his ankles. Krycek then tackled Mulder's shoes and socks, lifting one leg at a time with no protest from Mulder, pulling the wadded clothes off in one mass and tossing them behind him, Mulder's shoes clunking against the floor.

Mulder was bared in all his glory, bent over the wooden horse, shackled and tamed, quiescent but beginning to shift slightly in discomfort, trying to keep his head up. Krycek walked in a slow circle around the horse, savoring the sight. The welts and stripes on Mulder's back, some rapidly becoming blue bruises were marks of Krycek's ownership, power, and dominance. He reached out and rubbed the painful-looking marks and Mulder moaned. He ran his hands down Mulder's back to his buttocks, cupping and squeezing the resilient flesh, testing the muscle below the smooth skin as Mulder tensed. Krycek stepped up and wedged his erect, jeans-covered cock between the cheeks of Mulder's ass and grabbed the sharp points of his hip bones, pulling back hard. He became aware of a low sound and looked around at the guards, but they just stared back with bright eyes, leering. He let go of Mulder's hips and leaned around the side of the horse, looking at Mulder's now upside down face.

Mulder had his eyes squinted tightly closed and was shaking his head back and forth, saying "no no no no no no no no no no no" under his breath over and over again. His face was dusky pink and sweaty, or tear streaked, it was hard to tell. Krycek felt a small stab of pity, but quickly suppressed it, remembering that this was the man who hit and punched him with violent glee at every opportunity. It was payback time.

Krycek stood up and went over to the large tables along the wall and once again checked over his options. He wanted something to help focus Mulder's attention, something to keep him from wandering away into his own head. He picked up some thongs of soft leather and was inspired. He went back behind Mulder and suddenly reached between his legs and grabbed his cock, still hard despite Mulder's obvious distress. Mulder jumped and clamped his legs closed, until Krycek slapped him hard on the ass and ordered him to relax. Mulder obeyed and Krycek watched his handprint emerge in bright pink on Mulder's ass cheek.

"I told you that I would let you know when I was going to hurt you again, didn't I?" Krycek said, fondling the length of Mulder's penis from behind and cupping his tightly drawn up balls. "Okay, well, this may or may not hurt, but I'm going to tie some leather thongs around you and pull them tight." He crouched down and forced Mulder to spread his legs apart by pinching the insides of his thighs until he moved the way Krycek wanted him to. Krycek wrapped one length of leather thong around the base of Mulder's cock several times as tightly as he could, effectively creating a cockring. He took Mulder's testicles in one hand and pulled the sack back, making Mulder grunt and flinch but not close his legs. Krycek then put a loop of the thong around the very top of Mulder's scrotum and pulled it tight, drawing one end of the leather up between the two balls, twisting the end through the loop and pulling as hard as he could to separate the testicles. Krycek tied the two thongs together as tightly as possible and then stood up and backed away, still holding the free ends of the thongs. Mulder had to stretch his whole body back to lessen the pull on his penis and testicles. He drew his legs back, now standing on tip toe, and began to groan as Krycek kept pulling.

"So, I guess this did turn out to hurt, after all, huh, Fox?" Krycek smiled, enjoying Mulder's attempts to ease the stretch of his genitals and the resultant play of muscles in his buttocks and legs. "Well, I guess I have your full attention now, don't I? You had better answer me!" Krycek punctuated the last command with a sharp yank on the thongs. Mulder groaned louder.

"Yes, you...h-have my attention," Mulder growled through clenched teeth.

"I have your attention...what?" Krycek demanded with another jerk of the thongs. "I think you are in a position where you need to show respect, don't *you* think so?" Another sharp pull. "Say 'yes, Sir' when you reply to me, Mulder." Another yank.

"Yes, S-ss-ss-IR!!!" Mulder howled as Krycek yanked hard on the thongs, making him feel like his cock and balls were about to be torn off his body.

"Now that's definitely an improvement," Krycek said smugly and let go of the thongs. He turned to the Commandant, who was sitting cooly in his chair watching the show, unlike the guards who were to a man rubbing lumps in their pants, and asked for lubricant. It was time. He couldn't wait any longer to take Mulder.

The Commandant pointed to a box on one of the tables of implements. Krycek opened the box and found several tubes of lube, some having already been opened. He picked up a new tube and unscrewed the cap, squeezing out a tiny bit of gel onto his hand, rubbing it between his fingers. It was odorless and colorless. Just like a generic KY. Perfect.

Krycek went back over to Mulder and ran his hands over Mulder's fine ass, trussed cock and balls, and smooth legs. He put the tube of lubricant on the horse next to Mulder's right hip and began to unfasten his own pants, stripping them off and pulling off his socks and shoes as well. He wanted to feel Mulder's buttocks and legs against his skin, and besides he hated men who fucked with their socks on.

"Foxy my boy, you are about to get fucked to within an inch of your life." Naked from the waist down, only wearing his T-shirt, Krycek cuddled up against Mulder's back, draping himself as far over him as he could. Mulder groaned from Krycek's weight grinding his diaphragm into the horse, making it hard to breathe.

"No, please," Mulder whispered.

"No, please...what?" Krycek asked, driving two fingers up into Mulder's side, just below his armpit and into a very sensitive bundle of nerves at the edge of his shoulder blade. Mulder shouted in pain and tried to arch up to throw Krycek off him, but Krycek just dug his fingers in deeper. "I'm not stopping until you say it, Mulder." Krycek grinned evily.

"No, please...Sir." Mulder yelled. "Don't do this. I'm sorry for everything I have ever done to you, Krycek, I am, I really am..I..." Mulder stopped, biting his tongue, humiliated that he had begged, that he had even tried it. He *knew* nothing short of a bomb blast would stop what was going to happen to him.

Krycek didn't bother to answer Mulder, he just reached for the lube, squeezing out a goodly amount onto his fingers. He decided to be kind and stretch Mulder's anus before he entered him with his cock. //I really am too nice to you, Mulder// Krycek thought, nearly giddy with lust and power //But you *have* been such a good boy so far//. He rubbed the slick fingers of his right hand into Mulder's ass crack, feeling for the tiny opening. "Are you a virgin back here, Mulder?" Krycek asked. "And you had better respond properly." He reached between Mulder's legs with his other hand and grabbed the dangling thongs, pulling gently.

"Yes, Sir." Mulder said quickly but with no inflection, determined not to show any more emotion that could be used against him and humiliate himself even further.

"Then I'll be gentle. And you'll be properly grateful, hear me?" Krycek pulled the thongs one more time and let them go again, putting his hand on Mulder's ass cheek and digging his thumb into the crease to open Mulder up for his fingers. 

Mulder held still, rigid as a board as one of Krycek's fingertips penetrated his rectum and he gasped, trembling. The finger stopped for a moment, then slid smoothly all the way inside. Mulder let out every bit of air in his lungs in a low, surprised "Ahhhhh" at the bizarre sensation. It didn't hurt, but it felt so strange. He sucked air back into his body as Krycek began to move his finger in and out slowly, trying to relax his sphincter. He felt Krycek slip another finger up inside him and that hurt, causing him to involuntarily clench his ass around Krycek's fingers and try to move away from the probing. Krycek stroked his back with his left hand and began to slowly fuck him with the two fingers of his right hand. Mulder felt his stomach muscles quivering and his balls trying to draw up in their leather prison. "Oh....ah.... no," Mulder said under his breath, hoping Krycek didn't hear him.

Krycek moved his fingers slowly and smoothly and began to look for Mulder's prostate. His fingers curled downwards, feeling for the hardness of the gland, finding it, and then giving it a firm *rub* that sent spasms through Mulder's legs and caused him to groan aloud.

"Hah! Gotcha. Felt good, didn't it, Foxy boy?" Krycek said triumphantly as he set up a rhythm where he probed and then *rubbed* on alternate strokes. //How does he know how it feels// thought Mulder //unless he's been fucked up the ass himself// That thought, along with the movement of Alex's fingers in his ass, made Mulder's cock throb against its bindings, sending bolts of pleasure through him. //Oh, no. Not that. Anything but that// Mulder thought //I can handle the pain and humiliation-- certainly have enough practice--but to feel pleasure from my own rape is too fucking much// Mulder moaned softly.

"I am so sure I have your attention, Foxy, that I am going to take the bindings off your cock so you can come really good for me, aren't I nice?" Krycek said the last in a tone that dripped sarcasm. He pulled his fingers from Fox's asshole and wiped them on the man's hip. He reached between Mulder's legs and began to undo the bindings, finding it tough going.

"Looks like I'm going to have to cut them off, Mulder. The bindings, not your balls. Ha! Had you going there for a second, didn't I?" Krycek snickered and walked over to the table, selected a smaller knife than the one that he had used to cut Mulder's shirts off, and returned to his victim. He crouched down and carefully cut the thongs around Mulder's cock and balls, not even nicking him once, feeling Mulder's involuntary tremors at the thought of a knife so close to his genitals in the hands of his enemy.

Once all the thongs dropped away, Krycek gently massaged Mulder's penis and testicles, enjoying how heavy and responsive they were. The penis bobbed and smacked against Mulder's lower belly and the skin on his scrotum crawled, drawing his balls up close to the base of his penis. //Oh, that feels too good// Mulder thought, desperately trying to shift his focus away from the rubbing, teasing hands on his cock (someone else's hands for a change) and onto something else, anything else. His mind flashed on Scully and he recoiled in horror. He didn't want to bring her into this even in his own mind. He thought of the cockroach in the soup and with that image was able to grasp a bit of self control. He felt Krycek enter him again with two fingers then slowly open them wide inside him, then pull out with his fingers still spread causing another bite of pain.

"Okay, I think you are loose enough. I don't want you too loose, after all. I want to feel you clamping around my dick, Foxy, making me come " Krycek said in a jovial tone, lubing his cock and moving into position behind Mulder, spreading his cheeks and rubbing the head of his penis on Mulder's anus, beginning to press inside. "Don't worry about anything, Mulder, I'm clean. I've got test results from before to prove it and I haven't gotten laid recently, what with being on the run, locked up in a missile silo and left to die, then joining that militia and all." Krycek snorted. "And I know *you're* clean. Can't pick up too many diseases from phone sex and beating off, can you, Fox?" Krycek smiled as he felt the head of his penis enter Mulder's tight ass.

"Aghhh" Mulder cried out, squirming as much as he could to get away, then shaking his head from side to side knowing it was futile. Nothing he could do would stop the invader. It felt so huge, like a baseball bat was being shoved up him. He was in severe pain and it was getting worse. "No no no no

..stop....stop...please...I can't take it...stop," he finally choked out,

sobbing in agony. Krycek responded by slowing his assault and by pulling back a little for every bit of ground he gained. In this manner, he slowly rocked his way balls deep into FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder.

"Oh, God, Fox, you are so tight and hot," Krycek moaned, head thrown back, not moving, just feeling the slick hot muscles of Mulder's asshole clamp his cock like a vise.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh," Mulder pant/groaned. He tried to will his ass to relax and accept the invader so that the pain wouldn't be so bad. Gradually, since Krycek seemed content to hold still, Mulder's involuntary muscles did relax and his pain did ease considerably. Mulder had broken out in a cold sweat as he was penetrated by a penis for the first time and he shivered. The only parts of him that were warm were his burning rectum forced open around Alex Krycek's cock and his buttocks and backs of his legs in contact with Alex's hot body.

With a sharp hissing intake of breath, Alex withdrew from Mulder's ass just to the head of his cock and then slowly repenetrated as gently as possible. Both men sighed when Alex was once again buried up Fox's ass. Krycek rubbed Mulder's ass and hips, grinding his own hips forward to get his cock as far into the other man as possible. "Oh, this is better than I ever imagined it would be, Mulder," Krycek said in a dreamy tone of voice, and began to fuck Mulder's spread open ass with all the skill and care he knew.

Mulder clamped his teeth down hard on his tongue and breathed in spastic bursts through his nose as he was repeatedly rammed full of cock and then emptied, shoved full, then out, in, out, grind, grind, out, back in hard, hard, out again, this time completely. He panted open-mouthed at the withdrawal, his anus trying to twitch itself closed. Then Alex was back, repenetrating him, this time with no pain at all. None. Just an indescribable pleasure as he was opened and used, Krycek's penis hitting his prostate and giving him even more jolts of pure pleasure. He couldn't take any more. //Come soon, you bastard, come so you don't make me come// Mulder thought, absurdly convinced that this incident would never have ended up having happened at all if he could only refrain from coming. No orgasm would equal complete deniability.

"Oh, this is too good, Mulder," Krycek groaned, holding Mulder's hip bones in his hands and laying over him, twisting his own hips so that his cock rotated and ground into Mulder's fiery clinging ass. Mulder was so good to fuck, Krycek forgot where he was and where and why this was happening. They might have been lovers for all Krycek cared. All he knew was that he had never felt anything as intensely pleasurable as Fox Mulder's squeezing asshole. He began a steady rhythm that he knew would make him come fairly soon, but he couldn't help it. He had to. He reared back, spread his feet slightly for leverage, grabbed hold of Mulder's hips even tighter and proceeded to fuck the hell out of him.

Mulder couldn't believe what was going on either. He didn't think anything could feel *this* good. His mind refused to analyze what was happening to him. He could only feel it. As Alex's thrusts became harder and more demanding, Mulder spread his legs and pushed back toward him, opening to him without conscious thought, moving instinctively. Suddenly, without his cock even being touched, he began to come, shooting with incredible force, spraying the wood in front of him with his semen, having the come literally fucked out of him. The power of his climax made him try to arch up and he cried and moaned in frustration when the cuffs on his hands prevented him from doing so. He had never come so hard in his life. He moaned and twisted his body as much as he could, writhing in unwanted, hated pleasure.

Krycek felt Mulder's orgasm through the squeezing of his ass muscles and the movement of his hips. The nearly sucking pull of Mulder's ass plus knowing that he had made him come pushed Krycek over the edge and he shot his come again and again into Fox's bowels. It seemed he would never stop coming. He slowly fell forward and rested against Mulder's back, feeling his cock twitch in response to Mulder's internal shivers.

Both men lay panting with exertion, covered with sweat, feeling the post-orgasm lethargy stealing into their limbs. Krycek knew he should get Mulder up off the wooden horse. For some reason (maybe the fact that Fox was the fuck of Alex's lifetime thus far), Krycek now felt solicitous toward Mulder and wanted to get him out of his uncomfortable position. He very slowly and carefully pulled his still hard penis out of Mulder's stretched rectum. He stood for a few moments breathing hard and then bent to examine Mulder's anus for signs of trauma. Luckily, there were no visible injuries, just a dilated hole where before the orifice had been tightly shut. Krycek rose and walked around to the front of the horse, looking at the back of Mulder's head as he let it hang down. Krycek grabbed the discarded key ring, found the cuff keys, then unlocked the cuffs on the horse. He tenderly took hold of Mulder's shoulders and began to raise him up, holding him and supporting him back and off the wooden horse to lie on the floor near his wadded up clothing.

Krycek then did something he had no reason to do. He picked Mulder's upper body partially off the floor and cradled him in his arms. He leaned down and began to kiss Fox softly and slowly and with a great deal of care. Mulder shivered and returned the kiss with dreamy intensity until it was an open expression of....what?....*shared* passion, some kind of *mutual* connection? The thought suddenly jolted Mulder out of his daze and he pulled back from the man, the enemy, who had raped him, crawling naked a few paces away from him across the floor to his own clothing. With his back to him, Mulder didn't see the look of hurt and regret in Krycek's eyes.

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Author's note: Everything that comes before the "@@@" is mine. After that, CC and FS take up the dialog again while I provide the descriptions and thoughts. I'm trying for a seamless slide back into "Terma."  
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Krycek sighed and gathered up his pants, putting them on in a sudden hurry. He watched Mulder trying to put his own jeans back on without standing up. //Probably too weak to get up// Krycek thought, oddly proud that he'd worn Mulder out but melancholy at the same time. //At least I know it was good for him, too// he mused, zipping his fly.

"Here, let me help you," Krycek offered, trying to pull Mulder off the floor, but Mulder bared his teeth and slapped at him, knocking his hands away.

"Don't you touch me again," Mulder growled furiously, unconsciously echoing Krycek's own words earlier in their cell.

When the guards saw Mulder attempting to get his clothing back on, the guards, who until this time had been content to watch the show from their place at the wall, simultaneously moved toward Mulder. They weren't going to let him get dressed before they had their fun with him, too.

Krycek began yelling at the guards, stepping between the three of them and Mulder, who had scrabbled back and pulled himself up using the horse and was shoving his feet quickly into his pants legs, not bothering with his boxers, socks or shoes. Mulder didn't need to speak Russian to know exactly what the guards wanted. They wanted him...his sore, no-longer-virgin ass to be precise. He pulled his jeans up and zipped his fly, almost catching himself in the zipper in his haste, and feeling absurdly comforted by one mere layer of cloth. He was also shocked at Krycek's sudden protective behavior, as Krycek stood between him and the guards, still yelling at them, beginning to crouch into a fighting stance. 

Krycek feinted left, but then lunged to his right, toward one of the implement tables. He snatched up one of the knives lying there, brandishing it menacingly while growling in Russian. Mulder was leaning shakily against the wooden horse, trying to gather enough strength to get a knife of his own. Before he could make his move, the guards began a flanking maneuver to get around Krycek and grab him.

A sharp order rang out and everyone turned to the Commandant, who rose from his chair and walked toward Krycek as the guards very reluctantly backed off. The Commandant made a placating gesture at Krycek while speaking calmly. Krycek, however, glared at the guards and continued waving his weapon in short arcs. Mulder watched the Commandant's face over Krycek's shoulder as the man spoke in a friendly and casual tone, obviously trying to convince Krycek to put down the knife.

The Commandant turned to two of the guards and barked orders. The guards shot resentful looks at Krycek and left the room, slamming the door on the way out. Krycek relaxed a bit and Mulder let out a sigh of relief, watching the remaining guard who was now busying himself pouring a bucket of sand or ash on the coals in the brazier. The man glared under his brow at Krycek and his Commandant, obviously furious to have been denied his turn at Mulder. He caught Mulder looking at him and pursed his lips in a kiss. Mulder frowned at him in disgust and moved behind the wooden horse. Mulder turned his attention back to the conversation between his erstwhile rapist/now protector and the Commandant of the gulag.

Krycek pointed at Mulder and shook his head at the Commandant, making a cutting gesture with the knife in emphasis. The Commandant laughed and explained something in a reassuring manner. Krycek now relaxed and lowered the knife to his side and turned to smile at Mulder. "Mulder, its okay. He's really going to let us go," Krycek said, slipping the knife carefully into his back pocket. "This guard is going to take you back to the cell while the Commandant and I work out some details. I'll come and get you in a bit and we'll leave this place."

"Yeah, right, Krycek. I don't trust you for a second! How do I know you'll come and get me again? Why can't I just stay with you?" Mulder said belligerently, damned if he was going back into that stinking cell.

"While I am touched that you don't want to part from me," Krycek said sarcastically "the Commandant doesn't want you around inflaming his guards. He wants you safely out of sight until we're ready to leave."

"Uh huh. I'm fucking irresistible, aren't I, Krycek? Gotta lock me up to restore discipline among the guards. I'm not buying it, you bastard. I'm *not* going back into that cell!" A muscle jumped in Mulder's jaw as he clamped his teeth and stared defiantly into Krycek's hated face.

"Yes, you are irresistible, you *must* know that," Krycek said quietly, without a trace of sarcasm. "Look, I know you don't trust me. You have no reason to. But I *swear* to you, Mulder, I will get us both out of here. I have to work on this guy, get friendly, make some deals, and I can't do that if I have to keep 'defending your honor' from every horny guard in this dump!"

"I'll watch my own ass, Krycek," Mulder said with false bravado, knowing that he was too weak and hurt to effectively defend himself. He hated being so vulnerable. He balled his fists and dug his nails into his palms, using the pain to try to clear his head. "I don't need your protection. Just do what you have to do with this guy to get us out of here......I want to go h-home." Mulder fiercely swallowed back the sudden, desperately-unwanted tears that ambushed him and made his voice break.

Krycek shook his head sadly, finding himself genuinely moved by Mulder's distress. "It's not going to work that way, Mulder." He said softly. "You *have* to go back to the cell. You'll be safe there." Krycek wanted to reach out to Mulder and erase that hurt, frightened, angry look on his face with a tight embrace. He was actually feeling remorse for what he had done to the man. He had given in to his own worst impulses, taken advantage of the situation to get back at Mulder, and now his victory only left a bad taste in his mouth. He wondered if Mulder had ever felt sorry for treating *him* badly. //What difference does that make now?// Krycek thought, disgusted with himself. //Turns out payback was a bitch for *both* of us//

Mulder sensed Krycek's mood, sensed the sympathy. He looked into Krycek's eyes, trying to confirm his sincerity. Scully's every thought showed in her eyes; he could read her so easily. But Krycek was different. Krycek was a born liar and manipulator. Mulder didn't know if Krycek had ever felt an honest emotion in his life. He wanted to believe that Krycek was sorry about what happened. He wanted to believe that Krycek's going head-to-head with the guards in his defense was genuine. He knew he couldn't get out of this situation on his own and swallowed again as the sense of his abject helplessness washed over him, making his stomach muscles clench and sending a cold, sick, shiver through his body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his chest and hugging himself tightly. "How long do you think it will take, Krycek?" He said without inflection, not accepting the need to be returned to his cell, but not seeing any way out.

"I don't know, Mulder." Krycek answered. "I'll try to make it as fast as possible, believe me." He reached out and gripped Mulder's arm, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze and was delighted when Mulder did not pull away from his touch.

Mulder forced himself not to move, to accept Krycek's attempt at comfort. //One day, Krycek, one day I'll have a chance at you again, and I *will* kill you. I will// He opened his eyes and stared calmly into the other man's eyes, face blank and expressionless, hiding his feelings behind that well-used shield. 

Krycek squeezed his arm again and gave it a little pat. He turned back to the Commandant, who gestured they leave the room. The guard walked over to Mulder and gripped his arm, preparing to escort him out. Mulder pulled sharply away and shouted "Let go of me!!" Krycek glared at the guard and pushed him away from Mulder. Krycek turned to the Commandant, who issued angry orders to the guard. The guard nodded and looked sullen, then bent and picked up Mulder's and Krycek's shoes and remaining clothes, shoving them into Mulder's arms. The Commandant turned and marched from the torture chamber, followed by Krycek, then Mulder, and trailed by the guard who slammed and locked the door.

Mulder walked behind Krycek and stared at him as he moved easily down the fetid hallway. He didn't think it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Alex Krycek. He remembered the times he had been angry with the younger man in the past, virtually every time he saw Krycek's face, actually, with his sultry green eyes and that fuck-me, smirky mouth that Mulder just *had* to punch before he could be tempted to kiss it.. But those times paled in comparison to the anger and hatred he felt now. The fact that Krycek had beat him, raped him and made him come, as well as his near total dependence on him to get out of this place, raised his hatred level to such new intensity that it nearly choked him. //But if you can get me out of here.........// 

They stopped at his cell. The guard unlocked the door and Mulder reluctantly moved to step inside, turning to look at Krycek. Krycek smiled reassuringly at Mulder and gently grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. He took his shoes and socks from Mulder's arms. "I think I'm going to need these," he said. Mulder only stared at him, cradling his own shoes, socks, and underwear against his chest, then he walked all the way into the cell. The cell door was shut and locked again and Mulder stood shivering shirtless and barefoot in the cold.

He sighed and wished he still had his shirts, but they were lying in shreds on the floor of the torture chamber. He sat down against the wall, careful not to hurt his bruised and welted back and sore behind, to put his balled-up socks back on his dirty feet. The prisoner in the next cell began to talk to him. He hardly listened as the man told him a story of death. Mulder was so tired and emotionally drained that the man's words didn't really affect him anymore. //I've heard this before, haven't I?// he thought. Right now, he was having more trouble with his socks than understanding the horror the man droned on and on about. He really wanted to just deal with his socks. His feet were cold. This was a simple problem with a simple solution, one he could handle. But his socks weren't cooperating, they were sticking and seemed to be too small. He turned his attention to the other prisoner, preparing to ask him to please shut the *fuck* up so he could concentrate on putting his socks and shoes back on, when suddenly the door to his cell slammed open. He stared glassily at the two guards as they came into the cell and the Commandant shouted orders (again? or for the first time? he couldn't remember) and he was thrown to his stomach and yes, there was the syringe and he shouted and he passed out.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

@@@

Mulder came awake and couldn't remember where he was. He knew he was very uncomfortable. No, actually, he was in pain. He tried to sit up, but couldn't move. He felt the end of his nose slip into something that felt like a wire hole. He opened his eyes and tried to figure out what was going on. He realized he was trapped under chickenwire, tightly bound to a rough wooden surface. It hurt his damaged back. He couldn't raise his arms, he couldn't turn his head, he couldn't see where he was. He became aware that he was still only wearing his jeans. //No shirt, no shoes, no service// he thought hysterically, his lips pressed to the wire.

A shadow passed over his head and he saw a guard walk by. Suddenly the air was filled with screams from other men. His heart began to pound rapidly, thudding in his ears, almost blotting out the screams. He looked wildly around as far as he could see and then caught sight of the end of a pipe high over his face. The pipe began to drip, then it spat a foul black substance right onto his mouth, underneath his nose. He clamped his mouth shut tightly and tried not to inhale any of the liquid up his nose. He struggled to move and get away. He wanted to wipe the crap off his face but he couldn't move his arms. The screams died just as he felt the strangest sensation. It felt like the liquid was moving on its own, over his mouth and up his nose, sliding inside him. Revolted, he lay stunned and staring until a black fog came over his vision and he just *went away.*

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Prisoner? Hey, Prisoner?" the voice whispered urgently.

Mulder lay on his side in the cell. He wasn't as cold as he had remembered being before, but he was much, much sicker. He felt like he was going to throw up and his head ached. He suddenly remembered the crawling black liquid and he clutched frantically at his face. Nothing there, but now his head hurt so bad he went weak from the pain and rolled slightly onto his sore back, moaning. //Fuck, my arm hurts, too// he thought, clutching his left biceps. He rolled back onto his side and slowly sat up, trying not to be sick, still clutching his arm. From the light coming in the cell window, he guessed it was now morning. Of what day, he had no idea.

"I thought maybe you were dead," the man in the next cell said.

Mulder found that at some point he had been dressed in entirely new clothes, a prison uniform. He was curious why his left arm hurt so badly, so he pulled his uniform jacket down to look, trying to jar his head as little as possible. "How long have I been lying here?" he asked the other prisoner.

"Hours. I don't know. The first time is bad, very bad, " the voice replied.

Mulder wondered which of his most recent "first times" had been the worst. His first torture session, his first anal rape, or his first experience as a lab rat? //It's pretty much a toss up// he thought numbly, looking at his left arm where there was a small bandage. He picked off the bandage to see what was underneath. His small pox vaccination scar had a small scab of blood. Not much that could account for such pain. He rolled the bandage up and tossed it away and shrugged his jacket back in place. "They've done this to you?" Mulder asked the other man

"Yes, it becomes easier each time, until it kills you," the man answered honestly.

"What did they do to me?" Mulder asked, fighting back a wave of nausea.

"You have been exposed to the 'black cancer'."

"What cancer?" Mulder crawled over to the hole in the cell wall to see the other man.

"The cancer that lives in the rock," the prisoner replied, cryptically.

"Who are you?" Mulder asked, needing a distraction from his many physical woes as much as the information.

"I was a geologist, quite well-known in my field, actually. But now, I am just a test subject."

"You helped them find the rock?" Mulder asked, his mouth filling with saliva as if he was about to vomit. He swallowed hard.

"I was there when they brought up the first fragments. This was before the mining, before we knew what lived in Tunguska rock," the prisoner answered, almost apologetically.

Mulder clutched his face again, remembering the feel of the slithering liquid invading him. "How many men have died here?"

"Hundreds, maybe more. The search for a cure.....goes slowly." The man replied with a slight chuckle.

"Is that what they say the tests are for? To find a cure?" Mulder asked, caught up in the story now.

"No, no, they tell us nothing. We are left to guess or imagine the reasons for our torture. But.. what else could it be?

Mulder crouched on the floor, the mention of torture reminding him of Krycek again and Krycek's promise to get him out of this horror. His tiny spark of hope in Alex Krycek, that Krycek would indeed get them out, that he hadn't betrayed him yet again, that Krycek had been sincerely sorry for what he had done to him, was dying away. He had to ask.....

"What happened to the man who was in the cell with me, Krycek?" Mulder inquired, trying to fan the spark of hope.

"He is most likely dining with the men responsible for our torture," came the brutally honest reply.

Mulder closed his eyes in dispair at the confirmation of Krycek's most recent betrayal. The spark went out.

"I heard laughter when they left your cell," the prisoner continued.

Mulder opened his eyes, looking at the other man through the crack. "I'm not going to die," he said calmly.

"No?" asked the prisoner. "Why not?"

"I have to live long enough to kill that man Krycek." Mulder replied.

THE END.......

Well, this was a lot of work but a lot of fun. I wonder if CC will inspire me again?

Bye.

MULDER (slapping Krycek): Stupid-ass haircut!!

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End file.
